Superficially, her reflection looked just as sleepy and shaken from her
nightmare as Selina felt, but there was always that vague glimmer in the eye
after a particularly vivid dream, as if part of her knew something the rest
of her didn’t.

“Woof,” Selina declared, a parting shot as her shoulders slumped slightly
and she trudged back to bed.

“Mirror Bitch?” Bruce asked with a grin.

“Sorry if I woke you,” Selina grumbled.

“I don’t mind,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her once she was
back under the covers. “I can sleep in tomorrow, now that the board
meeting is out of the way. I can get back on a normal schedule.”

“That’s the ‘Mirror Bitch’ mood, alright. Haven’t heard from her in
a while.”

“Yeah, well…” Selina murmured, settling into the embrace and closing her
eyes again. “It was a dream I haven’t had in a long time.”

*** YEARS EARLIER ***

A purrfect night for a prowl. The air was chill, the moonlight
glistened off the water, and the purrfect prize had come to Gotham, had come
right to her…

The European art world was still buzzing over the heist, and no one more
than Selina’s fence, Igor. Epoque Fine Jewels, one of the Europe’s
largest dealers in antique jewelry, had been burgled right in their stall at
the Belgian Art Fair. Over two-hundred pieces taken, signed
pieces by Cartier, by Lalique, by Van Cleef & Arpels. The papers
estimated the value at 2 million Euros, but Igor said it was closer to 2.8.
If he was fencing, maybe as much as 3.

He was livid. It was the second time Epoch Jewels were taken.
The last burglary was at the Antwerp Diamond Museum. Several pieces
Epoch loaned to a temporary exhibit of Art Deco gems netted Igor’s biggest
competitor a million U.S. A million U.S.! Not to mention a
stable of new thieves, the patronage of a dozen new collectors, and contacts
within Igor’s own network of international jetsetters that had previously
been his own private monopoly. In the years that followed, she’d been
using it all to muscle him out of the first tier. Now it was happening
again: two hundred vintage pieces, masterpieces signed by Lalique, by
Vever, by Boucheron and Giuliano; art nouveau gold, pearls, enamels and
ivory. Igor threw himself on Selina’s mercy. He didn’t know who
had done the second heist, but he knew they were not bringing the proceeds
to him. They brought them to that banshee of hell, Sabine Evrard, and
with a war chest like that, there was no telling what she’d try next!

What she tried next was absolutely appalling: She rented a
megayacht called The Merry Old Gentleman, which she was taking from
luxury port to luxury port as a floating showroom for the stolen art,
antiques and jewels she peddled. If a client wished, they could even
make the buy in international waters—although that struck Selina as silly.
If you’re that squeamish about buying a stolen Vermeer, a transaction
that takes all of fifteen minutes, how do you go about owning it for the
next thirty years?

In any case, Igor’s nemesis, Sabine Evrard, had brought her vulgar
floating showroom to Gotham, where it was sitting in Slip 8 of the Gotham
Yacht Club. Catwoman had already circumvented the yacht club security,
such as it was, which left only the yacht itself. Getting onboard
required a few acrobatics, evading the cameras until she could get on top of
one without being seen by the others, and then setting up a tape loop.
The resulting blindspot on the first camera made getting to the second
easier, and the third and fourth were a breeze. All that remained were
a few ordinary locks to pick (hardly worth mentioning), a motion detector in
the salon, and cracking the actual safe...

Except it seemed the last two would be unnecessary since the motion
detector was already switched off and the door to the salon unlocked.
Catwoman had opened the door warily and saw someone was in there—presumably
Sabine Evrard judging by the muumuu, the turban, and the fact that she had
the safe open! A miniature mountain of diamonds and emeralds glistened
inside, and then:

“Oh, it’s you! Hi, Selina!”

The muumuu’d figure had turned, and it was…

Uh…

Nightwing in drag?

“Stand down, everyone, it’s just Selina!”

The lights flicked on and Robin came running out.

“Oh hi, Selina. Did ‘Wing tell you how much I liked your show?”

Selina screamed.

She bolted up in bed—chasing the cats away in a frenzied panic—

Her heart was pounding—pounding—pounding—

“Not again,” she murmured, tipping her head back and letting the weight
pull her back onto the pillow. “This nightmare thing is contagious.”

*** YEARS LATER ***

Once upon a time, when their relationship was new and the significance of
dating the World’s Greatest Thief was only just sinking in, Bruce Wayne
hired Catwoman to document all the security weaknesses she could find at
Wayne Enterprises. The job took a nasty turn when she discovered it
was all in response to corporate espionage initiated by Talia Head at
LexCorp—and that Talia knew the head of Wayne Enterprises was Batman.

Selina couldn’t believe that Bruce didn’t see the significance of that
information. Against the rest of the world, Wayne Enterprises security
was simply Wayne Enterprises security. Sure it included Bruce as the
head of the company, but nothing beyond that. Bruce Wayne was a
figurehead, Lucius Fox was the brains of the operation, etc… But to someone
who knew Bruce Wayne was Batman, how could he not see that that
little factoid changed everything? She called Harvey and arranged a
diversion that would keep all the Bat Team occupied at various locations
around the city. Knowing they were occupied, she snuck into the
Batcave and broke into Bruce’s desktop, simply to document that weakness
along with the others. It was necessary, it’s what he had
asked her to do, it’s the job he had hired her to do… but she
felt terrible doing it.

Those days were long over. She lived at the manor now, she had
lived in the cave for the last weeks Bruce was laid up with that back
injury, and two nights a week, she fought crime right alongside Batman.
She could use the Batcomputer any time she wanted without attracting
attention, no matter who was in the cave. Yet there she was, waiting
for Batman to leave, feeling just as guilty and nauseous as she had that
first time. It was his cave, it was a part of him, an extension
of all Batman meant. Waiting for him to leave so she could use the
computer without his seeing, it seemed so… wrong.

But it wasn’t wrong. There was no point upsetting him. It was
Eddie, it was personal, it was their friendship, and it was
crimefighting. If there was a recipe to spike Bruce’s blood pressure,
that was it. Nothing good could come from getting him involved,
particularly before she knew there was anything to get him involved with.

Their date night project included some feline intelligence gathering on
the Z. Their clubhouse on West 48th wasn’t the most challenging
of break-ins, but the Tower of London couldn’t compete with breaking and
entering for Batman. It was still the biggest thrill she knew. Once
inside, she’d unearthed all kinds of receipts and packing slips, mostly for
meaningless purchases: hammers and nails and potato chips consumed as the Z
set up lairs and fronts for the name Rogues. The Z were notorious for
passing on every expense—every related expense and any number of unrelated
expenses—onto their clients. There was just that one receipt, glimpsed by
chance: Petite Abeille. Meaningless at the time, a half-remembered
name. Petite Abeille, an egg sandwich and coffee, $6.75. It meant
nothing… until Oracle’s report of upcoming Arkham releases.

*** YEARS EARLIER ***

Both cats hopped back onto the bed, and Selina decided against getting
up. It would just disturb them again. What was the point in
getting up, anyway? It was just a dream. Bound to happen after
all that was happening with Bruce. Cat pins now! Covered in
diamonds, emerald eyes, vintage Cartier, iconic Cartier. The
most perfect vintage examples of the signature Cartier panthers, two of
them—made for the Duchess of Windsor, no less! Bruce giving her the
second one exactly the way Dick had predicted, it was perfectly
natural that it might spark a dream or two. Batman was Bruce Wayne.
He had the money to buy something like those cat pins as nothing more than
bait for Catwoman, and now he’d given them to her as a gift—just like
Nightwing-no-Dick predicted! Robin came to her door and helped carry
her bags. If she wasn’t having nightmares, that would be the
shocker.

She fluffed her pillow and was ready to go back to sleep, when the phone
rang.

:: What sounds like the Riddler’s favorite breakfast? ::

“Eddie, it’s too early,” Selina moaned.

:: That’s why this is an easy one. Listen: My first sounds
like you may have guessed… ::

“Look, call me back in a couple hours, I’ll be more fun.”

::’Lina, riddle me this: What’s the point in calling
mid-afternoon if I’m trying to invite you to breakfast?::

Selina growled into the phone.

:: ‘Sounds like’ my favorite breakfast food: waffle.
Rhymes with ‘baffle,’ get it? And what sounds like ‘guessed?’
Best! Best waffle in Gotham, ‘Lina. A new place, Petite Abeille.
Belgian. And what Kitty goes on and on about the fabulous waffles
every time she gets back from seeing her fence in Brussels?::

“Oh, I see,” Selina managed, turning on the light. “Well, it has
been forever since I’ve had a really good waffle.”

::They have both kinds, ’Lina. Burglar’s Foe is Swell Fees.::

Great. Anagrams. It was far too early for that nonsense… but
he said it in that sing-song tone like it was something tempting, so…

“Brussels or Liege waffles, got it. I’m in. Where is this place?”

*** YEARS LATER ***

“No get.”

Bruce raised a skeptical eyebrow. Cassie’s language skills were
still limited, but they had moved beyond that.

“What is it you don’t understand?” he asked, offering an example of more
sophisticated phrasing without blatantly correcting her.

“Body telegraph move. Is always so. Even Batman shift weight
back to push forward on punch, and little bit to right if going to snap back
for knockout. Always so. Must be so. But now…” she
trailed off into a petulant pout.

“Now the bodies lie?” Bruce said, supplying the words she had used when
she first came to talk to him in the cave.

She nodded, and Bruce reset Strategic Self-Mutating Defense Regimen 5 to
the warm up sequence for his profile. Then:

“VOX command: activate camera Cave-6, start record.”

Bruce progressed through the warm up battle, not quite in slow motion,
but as slowly as he could without the process changing his movements and
corrupting the data.

“Now, let’s watch the tape together,” he suggested.

They had done this before, soon after Cassie learned to speak. Back
then, Bruce thought her uncanny ability to read body language instantly,
amidst the chaos of a fight, might help him modify his own tells against
such an opponent. It turned out, his tells were no different from
Cassie’s own: the ones it was necessary to keep in order to perform
optimally in a fight. He abandoned the idea of changing to better
defend against this one little girl’s ability that, as far as he knew, no
other adversaries shared, at the expense of fighting less effectively
against all other opponents.

But today’s task was different. Today wasn’t for his benefit. Cassie said
her abilities were failing. Well, not exactly. She said the bodies of her
opponents had begun to lie. That wasn’t possible, so it must be her own
ability to read them...

“Right… Cassie, I know you don’t have a lot of words to work with
yet, but you have plenty of advanced thoughts behind them. You
understand men and women, what happens. Coupling.”

“Yes. Father teach. Father teach all that is need for kill.
Teach about sex. Whores who sell. Get good information from any
sell sex, Father teach.”

Batman scowled.

“Pore-nog-gree too. People that make pore-nog-gree… Porn-og…”

“Pornography.”

“Yes. Them. Know secret places. Good for find safe
house. Good for find drugs. Sometimes good for find blackmail.
But not so good for that as whores. All this Father teach.”

Batman scowled.

“Father teach also: in when doing sex, good time for kill. Target
vul-ture-ab-le when pants down.”

Selina scowled.

“I don’t believe I let you talk me into this,” she grumbled. “This
is worse than when you had me wearing green.”

“Oh c’mon, ‘Lina. So we’re on the East End, what’s the big deal?
It’s trendy now. There’s no need for the blonde wig, wide brim hat and
dark glasses bit.”

“Haven’t you seen the crap the Post’s been writing since my show, Eddie?
If you think I will risk being seen here and validating their insulting,
preposterous—”

“But it’s not like it’s a slum anymore. It’s shabby-chic.
There are like six health food stores on this block alone. They’ve got
those herbs that makes you smarter, that ginko biloba, gotu kola, turmeric,
cat's claw. Don’t tell me you object to that one.”

“Eddie, after all I went through to set the record straight, I wouldn’t
care if Foster and Forsythe set up a ‘Pick our unpicklable lock and win a
Golden Bast’ stand on the corner. You will see me organize a dog show
for the Justice League in the Tenth Circle of Hell before I compromise on
this one.”

“Okay, okay. I didn’t think it’d be such a big deal. I
figured good waffles, Belgian hot chocolate…”

“You know if Pammy were here, she’d remind you that you’re never supposed
to eat or drink anything when you go into Hades. That’s how they
tripped up that Persephone chick.”

“What herbs did you say you’re taking again?”

*** YEARS LATER ***

“There, left arm open out toward camera. Batman know time almost
up. Three more punch, maybe four, then Zogger stop. Look!
Still breathe hard, but no bother with knockout punch. Know Zogger end
on its own now.”

Bruce sighed.

“Cassie, it seems like you’re able to read my movements as accurately as
always.”

She watched the screen, which had frozen on the final frame.

“Guess not all bodies lie. Just some. Was not always so.”

“You used to be able to read body language consistently all the time, but
now your abilities are unreliable? How long has this been going on?”
Bruce asked, shutting off the camera.

“Since teach Tim. Try teach Tim. Tim no learn. Tim have
slow head.”

“A slow head?”

“Slow head or maybe slow fist. Must read bodies very fast,” she
said, pointing to the darkened screen. “Before hit. Else is no
good. Must read fast, then react fast, before hit. If no can
block hit, no point in see it come.”

“You’re talking about an acquired reflex, Cassie. That doesn’t just
happen without a lot of practice. Just like your kata, it takes
thousands of repetitions before the moves become instinctive, a learned
second nature.”

“No time practice when pitbull snarling in face. Learn or bleed.”

“That’s how your father taught you?” Bruce said, flashing back to
horrible revelations like this when Cassie first came to his attention.
“You know that’s not how it works here. That’s why we have the
Strategic Self-Mutating Defense Regimen, to master these skills in
comparative safety.”

“Zogger no have body. No can read.”

“I see. I’ll see what I can come up with.”

Selina was meditating in the sun room when Bruce found her. Not
surprisingly, Nutmeg was stretched out beside her. The cat might not
be “meditating” exactly, but it had found the one spot with maximum direct
sunlight. It was on its back, its belly stretched out, paws extended,
with its eyes closed in an expression of pure feline bliss.

“I hate to interrupt,” Bruce said mildly.

Nutmeg’s eyes opened in a clearly expressed “Then don’t.” Selina’s
eyes did not open, but her lips curled into a coy smile before her response:

“But?”

“But I want you to talk to Cassie before she leaves. I think a
woman’s touch is called for.”

“I thought she came over with a Bat problem,” Selina said.

“That’s what she said, but I think there’s more to it. She’s
reverting to her early vocabulary and speech patterns when she talks about
it. That usually means a subject connected to her early life.
Reading body language is something Cain taught her, so it made sense, at
first…”

“But?”

“I don’t know, something is off. Tim’s name came up several times.”

“I am not getting in the middle of that,” Selina insisted. “It’s
like when Two-Face started up with Ivy: eyes down, cross the street, and
thank the stars it doesn’t concern you.”

“Cain taught her everything an assassin needs to know, which included sex
as a biological function during which a target is vulnerable. The world of
prostitution, both gay and straight, seems to have been covered thoroughly.
Human trafficking, including the sale of children, and the making and
distribution of pornography. In terms of the seedy underbelly, she
apparently knew more by age ten than I know now. But in terms of the…
the ‘facts of life’ talk, sex as an act of love and tenderness that she
herself might want to experience some day, that was evidently unnecessary
information.”

“Charming,” Barbara winced. “Unnecessary—like teaching her to talk
was unnecessary. The more we find out about that girl’s history, the
more I think that, given a contest between Joker and David Cain, Cain is the
greater evil.”

“Agreed, but at the moment, I’m worried about her side of the equation
more than Cain getting what he deserves. She’s unaware of any upside
to male/female relations. She thinks of it only as a weakness without
any counterbalancing benefit, like… like shooting heroin. Naturally,
with those preconceptions, she assumed it’s not a behavior Batman would ever
engage in.”

“No comment,” Barbara smirked.

“She’s very worried. Barbara, she came to me because she thinks I
have a death wish, because taking a lover—any lover—is opening myself up for
assassination. She needs the sex talk. Despite knowing the
biological and criminal definitions, she doesn’t actually know what sex
is, and at her age, it’s time for her to find out.”

“Well, Dick knows how it works, so you managed to convey the pertinent
information at some point. I can’t imagine why you’re coming to me.”

“Come on, Barbara. Let’s not pretend men and women aren’t
different. For a girl, this is better coming from a woman.”

Barbara pursed her lips. Every fiber in her being screamed to
contradict that blasphemy—but she couldn’t get past the memory of her
father, unable to make eye contact for a week and finally fobbing the job
off on her Aunt Eunice.

Still, she didn’t like Bruce getting off quite so easily.

“You’re probably right,” she said finally. “If what you say is
true, if she looks on sex as the equivalent of ‘shooting up,’ then she’s not
going to believe your version of things if you’re just another junkie.
She’ll probably think you’re kidding yourself, trying to justify taking up
with Catwoman.”

Batman scowled.

“Ooo, hear the latest?” Barbara said, changing the subject with forced
cheer. “That double bust at the Iceberg last night? Scarecrow
was taking bets before ‘Wing and Robin intervened. Nightwing put a few
dollars on Harley Quinn, just as an opening to get them talking, get some
information on how the fight started…”

Batman scowled.

“Today it’s the talk of the underworld. Everybody’s talking about how
Nightwing strolled into the Iceberg, saw a brawl in progress, and placed a
bet like one of the guys.”

*** YEARS LATER ***

Selina scowled.

Cassie was still at the Batcomputer, happily going over the footage of
Batman working out, pointing out the different subtleties that showed how he
would move next.

“That’s nice, Cass. But I’d rather talk about where the body
language isn’t working rather than seeing where it does.”

Cassie shifted uneasily in her chair.

“Bruce send you because he know I lie?”

“He… sensed there was more than what you were saying, and he thought it
might be easier to talk to me.”

“Thought so. You no fight as good as Bat. Not make sense he
send you to talk about fighting. Is true what say to Bruce. Say
bodies lie. Did not used to be so. Always can tell by shifting
weight how body will move. Also by where eyes point and sometimes by
tilt of head. All these things tell how will body move. Now,
sometimes can tell. Sometimes not. But did not tell Bruce when
bodies lie, is not when fighting. Is when do other things. Not
tell that part but he know. So he send you.”

“Not bad, little detective,” Selina smiled. “So, the bodies that
are lying, the ones whose body language you can’t read anymore… if they’re
not fighting, what are they doing?”

“Is only one. Is Tim. Body say Tim want to talk, then no
talk. Body say Tim want to kiss, then no kiss.”

“You were seeing another boy, Cassie. Men are very sensitive about
that kind of thing.”

“Still, body no should lie. If say going to lean forward, should
lean forward. Is always so.”

“Okay, I can see a few possibilities here. First, this might be one
of those areas where what works in a fight doesn’t work the same way in
another context.”

“Always has before. Can tell who carry gun from way they walk.
Can tell who eat big dinner from way they walk. Can even tell when
driver get ready make turn before use turn signal. Can tell when
couple leave restaurant if had fight inside and who mad at who, all from
walk, just like with gun…”

“Yes, but this is different. This is a boy deciding if the moment
is right to kiss you.”

“Stupid Tim.”

“Cassie, you were right earlier. I don’t fight as well as Batman.
But I always got away, and I beat him more than once. Can you guess
why?”

She nodded.

“No can predict outcome of fight from training or skill. Too much
other factors.”

“Okay, close enough. There is one particular ‘factor’ when it’s me
and Batman, one particular variable, and it plays hell with all his other
abilities. Maybe it’s the same with your ability to read body language
when you’re alone with Tim.”

“Stupid Tim.”

“Or… ‘Stupid Cassie?’ Maybe? That’s the other
possibility, Kiddo, but I wouldn’t call it ‘stupid’ exactly. Cass, if
you’re not reading Tim’s body language correctly, it might be because you’re
seeing what you want to see.”

Cassie scowled.

“Okay, we’ll put a pin in that one for now,” Selina smirked.
“Either he’s sending mixed messages—which means he needs some
encouragement—or else he’s not on the same page you are—which means you
should also offer a little encouragement. Let him know he’s invited,
just in case the thought hasn’t occurred to him.”

“No get.”

Selina tilted her head back, interlacing her fingers slightly… the soft
smile on her face softening even more as she reached a decision.

“They all fall for that, don’t they? Bruce especially.”

“No get.”

“You get just fine, young lady. You just don’t like what
you’re hearing.”

Cassie scowled.

“I tell you what,” Selina said in her best, old-time tempting-the-Bat
voice. “You help me out with my problem, maybe I can help you out with
yours.”

*** YEARS EARLIER ***

“’Lina, why didn’t I start the California earthquake? Because it’s
not my fault!”

“It’s totally your fault, Eddie. You’re the one who made me
tell Harvey about that stupid video tape. You’re the one who insisted
we had to keep it ‘in the family,’ settle it among ourselves. Now he
and Pammy are busted—with Joker and Harley—on a misdemeanor! Three of
the biggest Rogues in Gotham hauled in for a goddamn barroom brawl!”

“Why didn’t I start the California earthquake, ’Lina! It’s not like
I could have foreseen him going after Oswald. I didn’t even know
Penguin was involved. And who could have guessed Ivy would just happen
to be at the Iceberg that night with Harley in tow and another Harley/Joker
toss up in progress.”

“Yeah, I’m shocked—shocked I say—to hear that there is gambling going on
in this establishment.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“C’mon, Eddie, think about it. Misdemeanor assault. That’s
not Arkham, that’s the holding cell in some piss ant precinct on 14th
Street until everybody’s sobered up enough to say they’re not pressing
charges. Until then, they’re not segregated, they’re in there
together, pissing each other off. And if Two-Face decides I ‘started
the California earthquake’ by telling him about that video—”

“Then he’ll yell a little! If it’s your fault, that’s all he’ll do
to you, ‘Lina. Me, there’d be a coin flip at the very least—and it’d
be one of those trick ones, where if it comes up on the good side, he says
‘2 out of 3.’ I’ve got one black eye already, and you know he’d just
keep flipping until he got the result he wanted to give me a second.”

“Woof.”

“C’mon, you know I’m right, ‘Lina.”

“Fine. If he shows up pissed, I’ll cover for you. But there’s
a price. You did not get that black eye from ‘a run-in with the Junior
Bat.’ What really happened?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well I really want to tell Two-Face who told me about the video, so…”

“He veto stump.”

“Translation?”

“I put the moves on Harley. She socked me.”

“A girl did that to you, Mr. Riddler?”

“Can we drop it now, ’Lina?”

“A girl in tassels…”

“This is so embarrassing.”

“…with the little bells on the tip?”

“Yes. What once-great Rogue of Gotham got a black eye from a ditzy
clown girl? C’est moi. I am a victim of Jester Assault,
Buffoon Abuse, Harlequin Antics. I was the recipient of a Civics
Roguish Rots—a vicious right cross—from a white-faced pantalooned
she-clown—A Cascaded Nineteenth Flop How Low—who is not worldly enough to
know a simple slap, or even, dare I say it—A Pilates Fouler—a polite refusal
would get the job done.”

“Eddie, seriously, how many of those herbs have you been taking?”

*** YEARS LATER ***

“There we go,” Catwoman purred, zooming the satellite image to frame four
city blocks.

“East End,” Cassie said.

“Yep. According to Barbara, Eddie—the Riddler, that is—just started
his final week of the ‘Fast Track Rehabilitation Program,’ which means, as
long as he doesn’t start any trouble, calling Catman a ‘pussy’ or telling
Croc that Blake took his chicken wings, he’ll be released in a few days.
With me so far?”

Cassie nodded.

“No start trouble, get out. Go here?”

“Right. Eddie wants to avoid another run in with ‘Catwoman the
crimefighter,’ and to be perfectly honest, so would I. But I can’t
ignore the way he’s decided to go about it. He has the Z setting up a
new lair for him—right here.” She tapped a clawtip on the touchpad,
and green circle appeared on the screen, circling a particular building.

“Is smart. Knows Catwoman no will go in East End. For
anything but especially not for crime-fight.”

“Exactly. It’s dancing on a very delicate and very complicated
piece of our history. And this lair… Either it’s a very practical
solution to an awkward situation, or it’s underhanded and mean. If
it’s the former, I don’t want to ruin it. If it’s the latter, I want
to smack him hard. Understand?”

Cassie nodded vigorously.

“Double blind python snare. If opponent make python strike, must
block high. But if do python redtail, high block will move right into
blow. No can tell which is coming, so no can tell how defend.”

“That’s it, Kiddo. So what do you do?”

“Change distance. Step back or push in. Opponent must adjust.
Will see from adjust which python he want use.”

“I like that,” Selina smiled. “We’re going to do something similar
with Eddie. We’re going to close the distance too, in a way that will
be taken as a friendly wave if his intentions are friendly, and a big neon
middle finger if he’s trying to play on our friendship to get the upper
hand.”

“What we do?”

“This place,” again Catwoman tapped a claw on the touchpad, and this time
a purple circle appeared on the screen over a different building a short
distance from the first. “Petite Abeille has wonderful
breakfast food—croissants, brioche, pain au chocolat, baguettes with
nutella—you’re going to love it. You’re going to stop there for
breakfast every day once Eddie gets out of Arkham, and you’ll be wearing a
Cat-Tales sweatshirt and ballcap.”

“And sunglasses, hide face.”

“Y-yes, but we’re also going to play with some disguises, wigs and
make-up. And we’ll get you some new clothes, too.”

“What is point if wear sweatshirt?”

“The new clothes aren’t for Eddie’s benefit, they’re for yours.
We’re going teach you to vamp a little. It’s fun. You’ll like
it.”

Selina massaged her forehead. The rest of the Bat-Family got to
clean up David Cain’s mess with this girl. She got to clean up
Pammy’s.

“Okay,” she said finally, taking a deep breath, “Where to begin?
First, all of Ivy’s ideas about seduction begin with the premise that men
are drooling imbeciles whose sole accomplishment in the length and breadth
of human history was standing upright so they could scratch themselves.
Nothing good can be built on that foundation.”

“Oh, Tim is great crimefighter,” Cassie enthused. “Good at
detective part and computer part and even chemistry part. Good at
questioning thugs, too. Pretty good at fighting, but could be better.
Good to talk to, too. Good spend time with. Good watch movie
with too. Knows lots of movies. And is fun to talk about case
after patrol. But that is crimefighter again. But not really
because talk about case comes after. We go for burger. He know
cart on 39th. Sell good cheeseburger all night long.
Wrapped in wax paper. With sesame seeds. Mostly talk about
patrol but sometimes other things. Not sure about his ideas of music.
Too much Black Eyed Peas. Oh, and is very fun to beat at Phoenix
Ninja. Makes best face when beat…”